Reaper (Dark in You 8)

His voice was a lure all on its own—deep, smoky, compelling. His short hair was a rich dark espresso brown, and those steely gunmetal gray eyes … well, they were still locked on her.

An itch built between her shoulder blades. If they’d been alone, she would have demanded to know what the hell his problem was. But speak to him that way in front of the Primes of their lair? Nah, that wasn’t an option.

Levi was not only a sentinel, he was the personal bodyguard of the male Prime. Knox Thorne expected the demons of his lair to respect all four of his sentinels. The merciless Prime didn’t tolerate any bullshit so, yeah, she’d swerve pissing him off. Even her inner demon—a psychopathic entity that didn’t find fear unpleasant enough to heed it—wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.

Her demon nonetheless would have surfaced to warn off Levi if it felt that he meant to make Piper feel threatened. But it never got that sense from him whenever he watched her this way. Neither did she but, ugh, she didn’t know.

“I heard you quit your job recently,” said Harper, Knox’s mate and anchor. All demons had predestined psychic mates to whom they formed a bond that prevented them from turning rogue. Anchors looked out for each other and could be incredibly possessive, so sometimes the line between friend and lover blurred, but not all became mates.

Piper nodded and said, “Last week.” Which was why she was here at the mall indulging in some retail therapy. Well, it was good for the soul. And stuff.

Absentmindedly toying with the gold tips of her dark hair, Harper twisted her mouth. “Tell me to butt out of your business if you want, but I was wondering why you quit.”

Well it really came down to the fact that the man who was both Piper’s ex-boss and ex-boyfriend was something of a dick. But she didn’t want to get into all that. “I felt like a change,” she fudged. When Harper lifted a ‘please expand’ brow, Piper sighed and added, “I don’t like to badmouth previous employers.”

Harper’s lips quirked. “I like that response.” The pale blue color of her eyes swirled like liquid, their shade deepening as they became the color of warm honey—her eyes routinely changed in such a way, and there was no predicting what shade they’d be next. “I’m only asking because I’m looking to hire another tattoo artist. I know you’re good. I’ve seen your work. So if you’re interested, give me a call and we’ll set up an interview.”

Piper blinked, perking up. “I’d definitely be interested.”

Urban Ink was a highly popular tattoo studio here at the Underground—aptly named due to the massive demonic paradise being located below ground. It was kind of like the Las Vegas Strip, only way more eccentric with its combat ring, hellhound racetracks, and all manner of shit you simply would not expect to see. Demons were easily bored and liked cheap thrills, so it was a busy place.

“Good,” said Harper, handing her a business card. “My number’s on here. Be sure to call me.” Her polite smile dimmed. “On another—and seriously dreary—note, we should probably let you know that Sefton’s free.” She was referring to a member of their lair who, in Piper’s humble opinion, needed a lobotomy.

“We released him yesterday,” Knox added, his ebony eyes sharp. The dude was hot as hell—tall and dark and confident. “He was … appropriately punished.”

Piper would bet that was something of an understatement. Sefton had been held in the lair’s prison for the past two months, and she didn’t doubt that he’d been taken to Knox’s Chamber, where lots of delightful forms of torture allegedly took place.

Well, that was what happened when you put a pregnant woman asleep and trapped her in her worst nightmare, forcing her to re-experience it over and over—which, in this particular woman’s case, had been delivering a stillborn baby. To her, it had felt very real every time.

As a breed of demon known as a nightmare, Sefton could do that shit to people.

As a fellow nightmare, so could Piper.

She could also bring people out of such unnatural sleeps. So she’d woken the woman, who’d then fingered Sefton—a rejected suitor—as the culprit. Apparently, he’d cried his innocence when detained and had insisted that Piper convinced the pregnant woman to lyingly accuse him. No one other than his family, who now harbored a massive grudge against Piper, actually believed him.

“I highly doubt he will give you any trouble,” Knox continued. “But if he does, be sure to report it.”

“Is Sefton’s brother still bothering you?” asked Tanner, another sentinel. The hellhound was also Harper’s bodyguard.

Piper shook her head. “Whatever you said to Jasper worked a treat. He backed off. I’ve had no more calls from their father either.”